


Other Feelings

by bates00



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bates00/pseuds/bates00
Summary: Daphne's feeling towards Rose, and how they developed through the movie.To begin with she was just another designer who Daphne had to win over. But it quickly grew to more than that. After a terrible night with Claude, she was finally able to approach Rose about her feelings.
Relationships: Daphne Kluger/Rose Weil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	Other Feelings

Daphne Kluger knew she was famous. She liked to dress the part, and that meant knowing some of the most talented designers in New York. This was one of the reasons she was meeting with Rose Weil. That, and that she hated being upstaged by anyone.

With the Met Gala being hosted by her, Daphne would have expected every designer to be kissing up to her. 

Sauntering into the restaurant, she smiled at the nervous designer, holding out her hand as Rose rose to shake her hand.

“Daphne,” she stuttered. “Miss … miss Kluger.”

Daphne seated herself, enjoying the awe that she’d come to expect.

“So, thank you so much for meeting me so last minute. I am such an admirer of yours, I have so many of your pieces,” Daphne said, the lies sliding from her lips.

Rose tried to look humble, but her awkwardness caught up with her.

“Really?” she asked, her eyes big. 

Daphne had done her homework and knew that Rose was nearing the bottom of the design world. They both needed each other, and this woman was stupid enough to do anything for her.

“Yah.”

Daphne casually shrugged off her leather jacket, letting it fall onto the chair behind her.

“So, this search. It has not been easy. And everything we’ve seen - you know - it’s been great, but it’s been tired.”

Daphne couldn’t help notice the woman’s lack of interest in her. The agreeing noises, the way her eyes kept drifting off towards something behind her. She’d never met someone before who acted like this to her.

“And you, you just seem different.”

There was something different about her. And it made Daphne interested.

“You know - like you’re immune to judgement. Like you’re above all that.”

Scratch all she’d been saying. Talking to someone who’s not listening is so annoying. 

“I’m sorry, wha-”

Daphne turned around, giving up on fawning over this woman who obviously didn’t care. But all she could see was the window of the restaurant. 

“What is going on?” she asked, forgetting herself.

Rose reacted slowly, like she hadn’t been listening at all. 

“Oh! Sorry. What were you saying?”

Finally those dark eyes were looking at Daphne again. 

“I’m trying to hire you. For the Met Ball?”

Rose nodded, the idea taking a few seconds to work it’s way into her head. 

“Great. Thank you.”

For the first time Daphne noticed a slight irish lilt to Rose’s voice. 

“My honor,” Rose continued, all the nervousness from when they’d first met gone.

“Flattered.”

Daphne wasn’t impressed but she’d gotten the designer, and that was all she’d come for. Thankfully, something about Rose told her that this ball was going to be perfect.

* * *

Daphne had seen Rose a couple of times after that, mostly for measurements to be taken. 

* * *

“Well, I don’t know.”

Daphne looked at the unfinished dress in the mirror, her perfect nose wrinkling at the drab material and make-shirt necklace Rose had created out of safety pins. 

“Well, you don’t know because this is only a muslin,” Rose said, popping up behind her.

“I don’t know.”

Daphne swept her hair back to get a better look.

“It’s going to be pink for starters.”

“Yeah, I know it’s going to be pink for starters, but I don’t know.”

Though Rose’s crazy hairdo was very distracting, there was something off about the dress, and Daphne needed it to be perfect.

“I feel like it’s the waist, I feel that it’s like …”

Rose crouched down to fix the waist slightly.

“And then the bottom! I don’t know about the bottom.”

Rose went lower but Daphne’s eyes were still caught up in herself. 

“Could definitely change the hem,” Rose muttered from where she was crouched. 

“It’s the necklace.”

Rose shot up, a slight panic rising in her voice as she quickly rebelled against Daphne’s suggestion.

“Oh, no. It’s not the necklace.”

“It is the necklace,” Daphne stated again. 

She could feel herself growing hot as she stared at the horrible safety-pin necklace. 

“It’s just, it’s messy.”

Daphne was an actor, and she could see the panic in Rose’s eyes as Daphne criticised the necklace. A cruel thought rose in her mind.

“Oh, no, no. It’s not messy. It’s messy cause it’s safety-pins. No …”

She turned away to pick up a picture of the diamonds and Daphne had a moment to start her theatrics.

“You must remember, the diamonds.”

Daphne’s chest heaved as she faked a panic attack. She’d had them before, though she would never admit it, so she knew exactly how to act.

“I just feel like I look huge.”

Surprisingly, she felt real tears spring to her eyes. 

“Hey, hey, Daphne, Daphne.”

Rose’s hands were cold against Daphne’s hot skin as she gently pulled her hair back from her neck.

“Listen, listen. Deep breath, deep breath.”

Somehow the woman’s irish accent helped calm Daphne down. Feeling the down-to-earth hand on her shoulder, Daphne followed her instructions, her eyes locking with Rose’s dark ones.

“Listen. Look. You - you’ve got one of the greatest necks in the world. In fact, you’ve got the only neck that could carry this necklace off.”

Daphne had calmed down, her beating heart slowing as she realised her acting might have been a little too realistic. 

“With your neck, this necklace, you’re going to walk into that Met Gala. And you, well, you’re going to light up the sky.”

Daphne nodded. She wasn’t stupid, and could see this was all for the sake of the necklace. Those words were just Rose trying to fool her. Taking the time to compose herself, trying to stop the tears, she smiled weakly. 

“Thank you.”

Rose almost seemed shocked, probably that her persuasion worked rather than anything Daphne had done. 

“You’re welcome,” she muttered.

* * *

More dress fittings followed, though Daphne didn’t allow Rose to see that she knew something.

* * *

Rose had been offered a drink when she arrived, and as Daphne preened herself in the mirror, she took a sip with relief. The stress must have been killing her.

“Hey!”

Daphne looked round, a new shade of lipstick on her lips. Rose didn’t react. Dark circles under her eyes showed the effort she’d been putting in in these last few weeks. 

“Hey.”

This time Rose reacted, looking towards Daphne with an unguarded look. 

“Lipstick. What do you think?”

She puckered her lips to make the color more obvious, but couldn’t look Rose in the eye.

“Oh! Pink. Urm. Yeah. Barbie! But in a good way.”

Daphne felt something. The first part had obviously been Rose’s real thoughts. And the second remark was her trying to redeem herself, like her own thoughts weren’t good enough. 

“Thank you.”

This time it was said with honesty. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her stained lips. 

Eye contact was held for a little too long, and Daphne felt a warmth spreading through her face which she hoped would be masked by the makeup. 

“It’s here.”

Daphne’s assistant entered the room, ruining the moment. Both women quickly stood up, Daphne pulling her gown closer around her as the men entered the room carrying a large case.

“Finally, great.”

Of course, Rose had already seen it, but Daphne could hear the worry in her designer’s voice.

“Oh! You haven’t seen it?” Rose said, drawing the attention in the room from the case back to Daphne.

“No.”

She noticed one of the bodyguards staring at her thin gown and stepped a little closer to Rose. 

The case was placed on the table, a security pin entered, large clips unclipped, and the lid opened to reveal a large jewellery box.

“That’s a big box.”

Daphne was nervous, and when she was nervous she talked. Rose shuffled apprehensively as the jewellery box was opened, glancing towards Daphne to see the woman’s impression.

“Holy crap.”

It was a lot of diamonds.

“Shall we err … let’s try it on, see if it fits.”

Daphne nodded, moving towards the mirror as Rose picked up the necklace, commenting on the weight of it all. Carefully, she brought it over to Daphne.

“Alright. It might be a little cold.”

She carefully laid it against Daphne’s skin. The chill reminded Daphne of Rose’s hands. Admiring herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help her eyes wandering towards Rose who was leant over her neck, muttering to herself about the clasp. 

“There,” Rose stood back, the necklace now locked into place on Daphne’s neck. “It fits.”

Of course, the necklace was an important part of Rose’s design. If it hadn’t fitted …

“Alright. OK. We can get it off, and then we can try the frock.”

Daphne bent her neck so that her hair was out of the way for Rose.

“Oh!” One of the security men moved forwards. “Sorry. You can not do it. I have to do it. Requires a special magnet.”

Rose’s reaction was a little too fast.

“What?”

Daphne could picture her shocked expression.

“Err … special magnet?”

There was more about the necklace than Daphne had considered. The man leant over her to undo the necklace, and she felt a shudder run through her as his warm hand touched her skin. 

“Oh, that’s cool.”

Daphne commented, waiting to see how Rose would react.

“That’s brilliant. Brilliant.”

Daphne could almost hear the cogs turning in the messy haired woman’s head.

“Could I … could I just see that again? Out of interest.”

“Sure.”

The man obliged, placing the necklace back on Daphne. This time it had been warmed by her skin and she didn’t feel the rush as it settled into her chest. Rose leaned close, her phone slipping out of her pocket to film the unclasping of the necklace. 

* * *

Daphne made her way up the steps, her train helped by one of her bodyguards and her arm held by Claude Becket. The man was charm condensed, and she smiled up at him for the cameras.

But once they’d stopped, and Claude had left her side for a photographer he recognised, she held her hand out for Rose. 

Always eccentric, Rose’s dress was quite unlike the others. She even wore sunglasses, though those might have been to hide the dark circles under her eyes. 

Rose gripped her hand tight, obviously not at home among the cameras.

They paused again to chat with Edward, a Vogue reporter, and Daphne let go of Rose to introduce Edward to Claude. 

“And of course, Rose Weil.”

Edward nodded. And Daphne felt a hint of jealousy, because Rose was her’s and no one else should have known about her. 

“What inspired you about tonight’s look?”

Daphne already knew her response, and brought her hand to her neck to feel the heavy necklace. But Rose’s eyes only brushed over the necklace briefly before rising to her face.

“Her!” she said, pointing at Daphne who couldn’t help smile back at her.

* * *

Inside the venue was dark, and Daphne supposed romantic. Though the poorly lit path and the tight grip on her arm from Claude made her more nervous than she’d expect. Smiling, she followed Rose, keeping her eyes on the woman’s pale shoulders. Claude was whispering something to her, and she really should have been listening.

Thankfully, the darkened paths were only part of the journey, and they soon were walking up a large staircase adorned with pastel coloured pages. Daphne could feel people behind her keeping their distance, her train dragging along the steps. 

* * *

Claude wasn’t looking at the dresses, or the crown jewels. He kept looking at Daphne, and it was starting to irritate her. Any other night, she would be all over this man, wouldn’t have noticed his obsessiveness, but somehow tonight was different. Even as she was pressed against the wall, and they were kissing and grinding against each other, her mind kept going back to Rose and wondering what she was doing. 

Was she waiting for her at the table, or was she happy looking at the exhibit not even thinking about Daphne? 

* * *

Rose was indeed waiting for her when they arrived at the table, and even rose slightly as she approached. Trying to act nonchalant as Rose fussed over her dress which thankfully didn’t show any signs of damage from Claude’s aggressive approach, Daphne chatted with the other guests, forcing the small talk which she was too often surrounded with. She was an expert on this, and her continued chatter meant that Rose didn’t need to say anything.

Thankfully her stomach had been trained not to growl, and she just felt the growing pain as her hunger kicked in. Only minutes later the soup arrived, and Daphne paused in her conversation to savour the smell. The feeling of hunger won over her and she dug in, taking a large mouthful. 

After her second mouthful, she noticed Rose looking at her with a look of unease. Swallowing her mouthful, she apologised. 

“I haven’t eaten in three days.”

Rose looked away, her shoulders tense. Daphne turned to the rest of the table.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking another mouthful, “Am I being rude?”

* * *

She was in the middle of telling a funny story about curtsying to the queen when the feeling came across her. It was something she hadn’t felt in years, and she tried to control it. But it was coming up faster than she could stop it, and she felt the bile reach the back of her throat. 

Ignoring the pathetic worries of her table, she rushed off to the toilet.

Barfing her guts out reminded her of her younger years. It didn’t feel good. Someone was rubbing her back, and in her fevered state she almost imagined it was Rose, though of course Rose stayed at the table. And she leant over the toilet again, more of her stomach contents making their way to freedom, she felt a weight lift off her. It wasn’t until she’d finally finished throwing up and was leaving the bathroom that she realised what that weight was. 

* * *

People were surrounding her, asking the same question over and over. And she knew the answer. Someone took the necklace. But if she told them, it would lead back to Rose, and she didn’t want her anywhere near these people.

To her horror, Claude shamelessly announced that he’d been back at the table, thinking more about his safety than how Daphne was feeling. 

“Seal the exits.”

The bodyguards lept into motion, speaking into radios, preparing to search for the necklace. 

“Do we have to make such a big deal of this?”

Daphne desperately tried to downplay the problem but the men ignored her pleas. The room slowly started empty. Daphne was led to an empty table, sat down and asked even more questions. Rose was nowhere to be found, probably shuffled out with the rest of the crowds. 

* * *

“Found it!”

* * *

Claude was back to his slimy self, finally fawning over Daphne like she’d wanted him to. But it still felt superficial. Rose was sitting by herself, idly sipping from a glass. Her eccentric outfit which had made Daphne smile when she first saw it now looked sad and lonely, her hair returning to its natural frizz.

* * *

John Frazier was just another person asking the same question. Daphne couldn’t help falling into the stupid, innocent woman act with him, and as she told him about the night she carefully forgot to include any parts about Rose.

Thankfully he was more interested in Claude and a convicted woman than Rose. 

* * *

“You guys are fucked,” Daphne stated, strolling into the old theatre like an old western cowboy. 

The team was spread out around the room, and Daphne spotted Rose lounging on a chair with an ice bag on her forehead. 

“Nice place. It must be a bitch to heat.”

Everyone was shocked, and she stalked into the little nest they’d built in the middle of the room from various chairs.

“Excuse me, you are trespassing.”

Daphne paused, glancing at the woman who’d spoken. It was the same woman who’d pulled the fake necklace out of the lake. 

“No, we asked her to come.”

Lou, who had indeed approached her earlier, spoke up in Daphne’s defence. Daphne settled down on one of the couches near Rose.

“You asked her to come?”

Daphne couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at Rose who was looking at her like she’d seen a ghost.

“We realised a few days ago that Miss Kluger -”

“Was not a total freakin idiot,” Daphne interrupted.

“Might have gotten a sense of what we were doing,” Debbie continued.

Daphne nodded, glancing around the stunned faces.

“First of all, if there’s one thing I know, it’s bad acting.”

Though she didn’t mean it, she glanced across at Rose, who, for all her effort, was a terrible actor when in a panic.

“And I almost never throw up, even when I’m really wasted.”

There were exchanged glances.

“And last but not least, I never forget a face.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, seems to me, eight shares of one hundred and fifty million was better than seven shares of nothing, right?”

There were a few nods, but still a very frigid air around Daphne. 

“Chilly,” she commented, glancing towards Tammy who was looking daggers at her. “Hi, Daph. Welcome to the team. Let’s not all high-five at once. Plus, I am the one saving your asses from insurance fraud.”

“What?”

Oh. Now this was something they didn’t know about. 

“Insurance fraud?” Rose asked, rising from her seat.

“I was going to get to that?” Debbie muttered.

“When?”

“It seems they’ve assigned an insurance investigator who’s -”

Daphne cut in. “- who’s about to look up your ass with a flashlight.”

“Who?” Rose was panicking.

“Oh, this little columbo dude. Everything but the trench coat. Totally onto you.”

“His name is John Frazier,” Debbie said.

“You know him?”

“Yes, he busted my father twice and my brother once.”

Daphne raised her eyebrows. What a family.

Lou continued, “He’s family.”

“Alright,” Rose butted in. “This entire enterprise was to keep me out of jail.”

Daphne glanced her way. Her research hadn’t suggested jail!

“Hey. No one’s going to jail.”

* * *

“Why are you doing this?”

Daphne looked over at Tammy, who had been having a hard time accepting that Daphne was on their side now.

“I ... “ Daphne searched for the right words. Really she just wanted to protect Rose, and being in on the crime ensured that. “I don’t have that many close female friendships, and book clubs are the worst, so I just thought - you know - this could be something fun to share.”

“You’re becoming a criminal because you’re lonely?”

Got it in one sister.

“Who isn’t sometimes, right?”

“Are you an only child?”

Daphne bit her lip. Those were her real feelings, if slightly abridged. 

* * *

Daphne knew her job, and she was good at it. Claude was drawn in without even having to see her. To be honest, her experience in this part of life was lacking. She’d had boyfriends before, but things had never gotten to this point. 

Wearing only her skimpy dress in the apartment was cold, but she could see Claude’s eyes drawn to her chest. And anyways, she was going to warm up very soon.

The handcuffs were a present from Debbie, and Daphne didn’t bother to ask where she got them. Thankfully they fitted around the bedhead of Claude’s bed, trapping the desperate man. She had to keep smiling, simpering over this stupid man, until she was out of sight. Then it was down to business. 

She needed something that would place the jewels in his apartment, something that would lead the police right to him. There was no denying the story Debbie had told her, about Claude putting her in prison, because Daphne had experienced it for herself. 

The diamonds were waiting in his jacket pocket. His jackets were hung up in his walk-in-wardrobe, and the golden star was an easy identifier.

“Where are you?”

Daphne glanced over to the bedroom, her heartbeat quickening. She was taking too long.

“I’ll be right there,” she called, trying to make her voice as seductive as possible. 

The jewels were cold against her probing fingers, and she carefully fished them out of the pocket. She’d already thought of how to position them, and aimed for the tie draw next, hoping for one of Claude’s unique ties. 

The diamonds looked amazing against the silky material of the tie, and Daphne mentally recorded the image to use in later advertising. A real image was sent to Debbie then immediately deleted from her phone. 

“Daphne?”

Claude's voice echoed through the apartment, and Daphne felt her skin crawl. Before she’d been acting, she’d had a job to do. But now she didn’t want to be anywhere near the man. 

Stopping in his doorway, allowing her fur coat to drop from her shoulders again, she smiled down at him. God he was desperate. 

He looked up at her with dangerous eyes, straining against the makeshift bonds. If she let him go would she be able to escape? But she couldn’t have him suspecting her. 

“It’s your turn,” he murmured, jangling the handcuff against the bed frame. 

Daphne’s smile dropped, but she threw the keys at him and lifted her coat back onto her shoulders. 

“I’m done for the night.”

She was trying to be inconspicuous, but Claude was soon behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her body like he owned her. 

“Claude! I want to leave.”

Struggling was useless. She was easily picked up and thrown onto the bed, Claude ripping off the fur coat. Things were going badly now, and Daphne quickly tried to climb off the bed, her limbs caught up in the slippery sheets. 

“Oh no. You kept me waiting for too long.”

Claude grabbed her thin wrist, his hand wrapping all the way around it. Daphne tried to turn on the charm again, moving closer, draping her free around over his shoulders. But it was no use, and her hand was thrust backwards into the waiting handcuff. 

* * *

He eventually slept. Daphne felt around the bed, knowing he wouldn’t have bothered to do anything else with the keys. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t bring herself to touch Claude. 

* * *

Rose was still at the theatre, the only person still awake, huddled over a sketchbook. She looked up as Daphne entered, probably shocked that Daphne was here rather than at her fancy apartment across town. 

But there was no one else in that apartment, and Daphne needed …

“You got the photo?”

Rose had been in on the conversation, though Daphne had wondered if she ever listened to anything she was told. Daphne sat down on the couch behind Rose, making the woman twist round to see her. 

“Yep. Claude should be in jail by the morning.”

She spat out his name, hating the way it grated against her throat. Rose looked up at her questioningly. But she could see that Daphne didn’t want to talk, and turned back to her drawing. 

Slowly, and painfully, Daphne slid off the couch onto the floor, looking over Rose’s shoulder at the drawing. It was of her, or at least someone visually similar. 

“I had another idea for the Met Ball that I wanted to try out.”

Rose was concentrating on the hem of the dress, and Daphne leaned in close to see the finer detail, her breath tickling Rose’s bare shoulders. She could see the slight curve of Rose’s lips which were tightening into a smile. 

“He didn’t stop,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Rose turned her head slightly and stopped drawing, all her attention on Daphne. 

“I’d gotten the photo but he wouldn’t let me leave.”

Tears were welling up in her eyes as her body remembered what had happened next. Rose gently brushed them off, her lips pursed. 

“He’ll be in jail by the morning,” she repeated, her words somehow much more meaningful than Daphne’s remark. 

Daphne shook her head. Claude was smart, he was going to get out of this and come after her. Gently cupping her head, Rose allowed Daphne to cry into her chest, stroking the thick brown hair. 

“Thank you,” Daphne muttered. She lifted her head to look into Rose’s eyes. “For everything.”

* * *

“To our dear friend, Carl,” Rose toasted, lifting an almost empty bottle of wine. 

“Claude,” Debbie corrected her.

“Claude,” Rose repeated. “Becker. May he rest in peace in prison.”

While the others cheered at this remark, she turned to look at Daphne.

“Love you.” She started looking around the whole group. “Love you, love you.”

Daphne smiled back at her. But something was off.

“I have a question. So - it’s good that he went to jail.” She’d never told any of the others, especially not Debbie. “Cause it’s great that we didn’t. But if you only sold the jewels for eighty five million, how’s it work out that we get sixteen a piece?”

* * *

Daphne stopped acting after that. She’d always wanted to move into directing anyways, and people listen to directors. Rose was able to continue designing, with a new shop featuring her own work. The safety-pin necklace was pride of place in the window display. 

And they continued being friends. Rose moved into Daphne’s fabulous apartment, and Daphne became her favourite model. Daphne had someone to hug when things became too much, and was able to get rid of her assistant so they had the apartment to themselves. 

  
  
  



End file.
